Lily had everything a girl could ask for—velvet dresses, shimmering chandeliers, and a garden that bloomed all year round. Yet inside her marble mansion, she felt like a ghost, drifting through endless halls with no one but her aging nanny for company.

Her father, a stern-faced tycoon, was more present in newspapers than in her life. The only warmth she knew came from the books she read and the balcony where she watched the world from a safe distance.

One afternoon, a truck pulled up across the street to the long-abandoned house. From her balcony, Lily watched as boxes and furniture were unloaded. Then she saw him—tall, broad-shouldered, with gray-streaked hair and a kind, sun-warmed smile. "Hey there young lady." The man said in a deep masculine voice.